


tiger's paw to hold me down

by shadoedseptmbr



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Hair Braiding, Non-Sexual Intimacy, chaste marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadoedseptmbr/pseuds/shadoedseptmbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An interlude during the On the Loose Quest</p>
            </blockquote>





	tiger's paw to hold me down

He caught her staring out the window again, as he prayed.  He let his words trail off but it was nearly six minutes of silence, the fire popping in the quiet before she startled and turned a guilty face back towards him.  “I’m sorry, Sebastian.  I’m afraid I’m rather tired.  I’ll see you tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

“It would be, but you’re worried about something.  Will you not tell me of it?”

Isobel's mouth opened slightly in surprise but she shook her head.  "It's not...it's not that important."

He smiled at her, softly.  “I’m your husband, it is my duty to know when you’re upset."

“So you are.”  She turned to the window again and he was almost about to prompt her again before she explained, in a matter of fact tone, “I had to go to the Gallows today.” 

“Oh.  We’ve gone there fairly frequently.”  He probed.  More frequently than he’d cared for, if he were honest.  He’d occasionally taken confession there, among the Templars, as well.  Sebastian suppressed his shudder and refocused his attention on Isobel, on the shadows in the soft green eyes.

“Meredith…required my assistance.”  The muscle in her long neck shifted and the coal black lashes closed. 

“Required or ordered?” 

“It was…a fairly pleasant exchange.  But…”

Her hand flexed, as if to draw mana around her, and the hair stood up on the back of Sebastian’s neck.  “Did she  _threaten_ you?”

“No.  No, nothing like that.  There are blood mages that I need to track down.  I found one, already.  Varric recognized him at the Hanged Man.  He’s gone back to the Gallows on his own.”

“So what is this, then.”  He brushed his hand over the gooseflesh that had stood up on her arms and started to chafe warmth back into her, drawing her closer to the fire that Bodahn had built up.

Isobel stared out of the window and tried to explain.  “Meredith has an assistant.  Elsa.  She’s Tranquil.  Have you met her?”

“No.  I knew Meredith had assistants…but I assumed that they were Templars.  Why would she have a Tranquil?”

“I think it  _was_  a threat.  Of a sort.”  Isobel almost whispered. “It worked.”

His hand cupped her shoulder and she brushed her fingers across his.  “Tell me.”

 “It wasn’t that she was Tranquil.  I’ve met enough of them that I can…ignore that.  But she was wearing Chantry robes and…”

“What?”

Sebastian's shock was apparent in the aghast exclamation and Isobel explained, “Elsa was wearing Chantry Robes when I met her.  I don’t know.  Perhaps she always wears them.  Perhaps she was a Chantry orphan, dedicated to the…”

He interrupted her,, “It does not matter.  She should not still be in robes as a grown woman, as a mage of the Circle.”

She nodded as he confirmed her understanding. “Well.  I thought it was odd.”  She looked up at him.  “Since…we were married, since I took my vows, I’ve worn robes on occasion.”  Isobel passed her hand over the front of the black leather edge work of the garment the Grand Cleric had had made for her, to signify her as a sister.  “It felt like a very personal dig.”

“I would trust your instincts.”  Sebastian was unusually grim, a deep spark of anger building.  “I would also ask, do not go back without me.” When Isobel began to protest about taking him from his duties, he added, “Or Aveline.  I think that even Meredith would hesitate to…”

“Aveline was with me.”  She admitted.

“I see.   I must tell the Grand Cleric of this.  Meredith has no right to threaten you nor insult the Chantry in this way.” 

“Now?”

The frown fled and he smiled at her, warmly.  “No, not now.  Now, we will see to you.”  
  


“And how will we do that?”  There was a hint of a smile in her eyes, the first he’d seen this evening.

He lifted his chin towards the library door.  “Dinner first.  I smell something good.”

“Orana’s been experimenting with a book of Starkish cuisine I found for her.”

They ate, accompanied by Bodahn, Sandal and Orana who blushed at Sebastian’s compliments on the apricot studded grain dish and the warmly spiced fish with salty preserved lemons that she’d set before them.  She left the table determined to try and perfect the pie she’d read about, with its extravagant arrangement of fish and pastry, leaving them to their dessert of a glazed citrus cake and candied almonds. 

Sebastian was pleased to see that Isobel seemed recovered enough to do justice to the delicacies.   She piled a second helping of the fluffy grains on her plate and polished it off.  Then again, she rarely picked at her food.  Being a mage required fuel, mana wasn’t replenished on air alone and Isobel disliked relying on lyrium potions. 

She continued to nibble at the silver dish of almonds even after they left the table, carrying it in her hand to the foot of the stairs.  Offering him the dish, Isobel asked, “Will you go back to the Chantry?”

“I think I’ll stay tonight if you don’t mind.  It’s late and I’m worse for wear after that spread.  I should be grateful there’s a fast on Tuesday.”

He didn’t stay as often as she’d admit to hoping and Isobel ducked her chin to smile.  “Oh, good.  Would you like to read a bit?”

“Not really.  If my room is to order…”

“Always, Sebastian.   Anytime you want. This is your home, too, as long as it’s mine.”

He couldn’t help the smile.  “I am glad you’ve stayed.  I think it’s good for you to have the respite.”

“Well, I admit, vows or not I don’t think I’m suited to the dormitory life.”

He chuckled, trying to imagine Isobel sharing one of the open floor bedrooms.  There were private rooms for the Mothers and he had his own, in the men’s dormitory as there weren’t any other brothers serving Elthina.  No, the villa, extravagant though it might seem, was a far better place.  
  
Sebastian walked her up the stairs, with her hand tucked securely in his elbow. 

“Where is Alleyn?”  Isobel’s mother had hired a personal maid to tend to the two of them and the clothes they’d accumulated between them.   Isobel had kept her on after Leandra was killed, enjoying the woman’s chatter and skill with her curly hair and sensitive scalp. 

“She’s gone to visit her sister, there’s a baby due in the next week.”

“Good tidings, then.”  He looked her over once more and worried, asked, “Are you going to call Orana to help you with your hair?”

“I hadn’t thought to.  I am perfectly capable of putting myself to bed, Sebastian.”

Sebastian hesitated and then asked, feeling the tips of his ears burning as he laughed at himself.  Ah, the times had changed.  “Would you like my help, then?”

Isobel blinked at him and then nodded.  “Oh.  Yes.  If you’d like.”  She pushed open the door to her rooms, cool and dark until she flicked her fingers to light the sconces.

A year since their marriage and they were still careful of these small courtesies.  Neither of them wanted to violate the circumstances of their vows but the subtle intimacies of marriage had continually surprised them. 

 She showed him a padded bench, a few embroidered cushions scattered across the back.  “Give me a moment and I’ll change.”

The cushions proved softer than they looked and Sebastian sank back to wait as she glanced over her shoulder before ducking into a smaller chamber.  Dressing room, he presumed, lazily watching the candlelight flicker over the textured paper that lined the walls.

He’d been to her rooms before, when she was injured in the duel with the Arishok.  They were much the same now as they had been then.  Richly appointed in deep reds and bronzes.  The large bed was draped in curtains to keep out any hint of draft.  A soft  _susshing_ noise drew his gaze back to the door she’d disappeared behind.

Isobel rarely wore robes, besides the formal ones that Elthina had gifted her with.  Her work clothes usually involved practical (if exquisitely made) trousers, jerkins and tunics.  She wore gowns on occasion, happily, when asked to dine at the Keep or when the occasional noble party required her to do so.  He’d never seen the luxurious garment she wore when she emerged from the dressing room; dark green velvet, banded with brown silk.  It draped loosely around her shoulders, warm and soft and trailed behind her on the smooth oak floor. 

Sebastian watched her as she dropped into the padded seat at her candlelit dressing table and carefully pulled the dark bronze pins from the coils of her hair.  “You do have lovely hair.” He told her as she threaded her fingers through the braids to unwind them.

 She massaged the back of her neck with a sigh.  “It’s heavy.  I sometimes think I should cut it again, the way it was in Ferelden.” 

He joined her, quietly moving across the room and startling her slightly when he spoke. “Up to you, of course.”  Sebastian laid his hand on her shoulder.  “But it suits you.  They’re very regal, your braids and knots.”

“Regal?  Tsk, someone might think I’m putting on airs.  Getting above myself.”  She shifted her shoulders, tired enough that even the effort to raise her arms to brush her hair seemed too much effort. 

“You’re a noblewoman, yet.  And were you not, I doubt they’d come across a mortal woman that could outshine you at any rate.  Here, let me.”  He took the brush from her limp hand and drew it slowly down the curling, nearly coarse lock in his other hand.  It twined around his thumb as he worked it smooth, before he moved on to the next.  Gradually, Sebastian moved up the mass of hair until he’d reached the top of her head to brush in long, sweeping strokes.

 Isobel couldn’t help the contented sigh as Sebastian curved his hand over the crown of her skull, feeling the tension streaming away with his work.

_There, that was much better._   He nimbly braided the thick black hair loosely and draped it over her shoulder after tying it off with one of the green silk ribbons laid across her dressing table.  Soft tendrils that during the day were carefully caught in the caul she wore waved over her forehead and around her face. 

Isobel smiled up at him, reflecting in the glass.  “Thank you.  It never goes so easily when I do it, or even when Orana does it for me.”

“It’s my blessing to serve as well as my duty to my wife.”  He tightened his fingers around hers when she raised his hand to cluck over a few small cuts, left from the new bowstring he’d used for practice that afternoon.  The soft glow of mana bloomed under her fingers and curled as warmly around his wounds as her hair had a moment ago.

“You were working hard, it seems.”  The slight frown was back and she flashed a look up at him, stern.  “Why?”

“It takes repetition to maintain my form and I’ve been lax of late, what with one thing and another. But,” he confessed when she continued to look at him with demanding concern, “I’m worried about the tensions, about Elthina’s safety.  Your safety.  It feels…” He shook his head.  “Since you drove Anders away, I thought it would get better.  But it hasn’t, has it?”

“No. Not really.”

“It clears my head, to be on the range.  I think I’ll need that clarity, soon.”

Understanding bloomed and she nodded.  “Perhaps I should practice with you, tomorrow.  Clarity, even for an hour, would be pleasant.”

“You’re always welcome to join me,” he assured her. “But for now, bed I think.”

“Oh, but I had some letters to answer.”

“And they’ll be there tomorrow, won’t they now?”

“They will.  You’re right.”  She looked up at him in the mirror.  “Thank you, Sebastian.  I think I’ll sleep better tonight, with you here.”

“My blessing.”  He repeated it, fondly as a caress, and then leaned over to kiss her knuckles.  “Good night, then.”  She squeezed his hand before she let him go.

 

 

 

 


End file.
